


The song of galaxies

by CieldelaRose



Series: Dream dust [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, In SPACEEEEEE, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-apocalyptic space au, Ships and Travelling and such
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CieldelaRose/pseuds/CieldelaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ship sailed through space like it was stuck in sand. Parts of it have fallen to the void, never to see the end of it's journey, but they have each other, and Stiles feels so lucky for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The rusty ship - You make my heart beat

He makes his way down the badly lit hall, stretches his hand round a wrench and blinks tiredly. He then proceeds do curse Scott to the afterlife and back. Goddamn Scott and his slave-driving tendencies. He probably hadn’t slept since he fixed the kitchen’s main sink, and that had been _a while_ ago.The ship was a sneeze away from completely falling apart on a good day, and that kept Stiles in a constant frenzy to fix everything before something broke beyond repair.

Idly, he scratches a random pattern on his graphic tee, punches a code into the entry pad and steps into the control room. Captain Finstock is currently absent, probably sleeping in his room, as per usual, the bastard. Technically, Scott was co-captain of their vessel, but since Finstock AKA “The muffin terminator” (nicknamed after his genocide of several of the ships poorly made first batches of “we survived the first year!” muffins) was never actually doing anything productive, Scott took the rails on everything. Including emergency situations. Especially emergency situations. Most of which usually involved Stiles, as either the cause or the solution. He sweeps his gaze trough the consoles to check for damage, because Scott was surprisingly clumsy, and lets his gaze stray when he finds nothing. He finds Scott sitting on his chair with a sheepish look and a crooked smile in place. “You _rang_?” he says, and makes sure to add as much sarcasm as possible. Scott nods and begins to ramble about the light switches and the engines and whatever it is that’s broken down now. “Save it Scott, just get to the point, I’m dying here.”. The sheepish look comes back with a flourish and Scotts nose and brows twist and twitch in a pitying manner. “The upstairs shower has broken down again.” Stiles groans, because he knows exactly which one Scott’s talking about. It must have broken down six times in the past month alone, and continues to give his grief after he’s “fixed it”. Scott pasts his back and ushers him into the hall.

An hour later he’s drenched and ignoring every knowing look on the way to his room, battle with the shower-head won by a last minute suicide mission. He catches a head of black hair from the corner of his eyes and walks faster. When he sees her approach at a steady pace he starts jogging and shouts “NO, Laura”. Amused snickers sound from passersby and a voice shrieks from somewhere behind him. “Come on Stiles! Just this once!” He shakes his head vehemently and speeds his pace when his room comes into view. Laura murmurs a dammit as he shouts “Safe!” before closing the door on her face. Sleep at last.

Laura was, for the lack of a better word, a souls sucking demon from the planet Your Time, My Whims. She commanded what little there was of the exploration crew, and tended to ask Stiles for shiny new gadgets to take with her on her increasingly ridiculous missions. Thankfully, not weapons, because Stiles couldn't be trusted with anything bigger or more dangerous than a spoon, and the weapons technician was Isaac. But anything from locators to compasses was Stiles' camp, and Laura had a horrible tendency of coming back from off-ship missions with _all_ the gadgets destroyed or worse, in enemy hands. There was also that time with the irikitiquian lizard from planet 02334, were she accidently made an illegal deal in which she may or may not have mentioned the trading of Stiles' services for a months’ worth of supplies. They don't speak about it.

Derek, Laura's growly and surly male version, was from YTMW's sister planet: Your Throat, My Teeth, present in his no-shit attitude and semi-frequent glares. He handled the creation of off-ship routes, and navigated their exploration team to food, water, shelter and, on a number of comical occasions, hot aliens. As can be seen in Danny's hot but bitchy boyfriend Jaksairoeanktp, or Jackson, if you went with Scott the name butcher or Isaac the socially awkward sheep, because cultural etiquette slides off them like water off a duck. 

The thing is, despite Derek's seemingly constant run ins with hot alien babes, dudes, and everything in-between, and their apparent interest in his everything, he didn't seem to want any of them. Even that girl from planet 0453, otherwise known as the Russian brides of the galaxy, who was adamant in marrying his surly ass. Derek looked so constipated Stiles was sure  something would pop out of his face sooner or later, probably one of his eyes, with the way they were twitching in their sockets. 

Derek maintained his undenyingly mysterious facade and, as such, has continued on the top of Stiles' list: Research hobbies for the stressed and overworked. (Also on Stiles' hottest people this side of the Universe, (every side of the Universe, really.)) However, although he doesn't speak much, he continues to be a pain in the ass. It's like he knows what buttons to press and decides key-smashing is the way to go. 

Stiles steps out of his room, sends a silent prayer to whoever is listening, takes a look around and promptly turns back and starts trying to go in again. Too little too late, unfortunately, because a hand suddenly grabs the back of his t-shirt and yanks. Oh hello there floor, you are much too close for comfort, please back away a little. His body twists in his captors skilled hands and he finds himself on an express trip to the cafeteria. You didn’t even try, he cries silently to whoever is listening. When he gets there he almost collides with Amelia, who swerves out of the way at the last minute, he's shoved onto one of the very uncomfortable benches and bracketed by two warm bodies. 

 

"So..." Laura begins. "Are you coming with us on the mix-crew exploration of planet 938?" asks an aggressively smug Erica, as she smiles with all her teeth. "No" Stiles sighs, not this again. "Come on! It'll be habited and everything!" they insist. Actually...that was a pretty good argument. Contrary to popular belief and most major space series prior to 2090, most planets weren't habited, due to either their distance or closeness to a star, or a variety of factors.

 

"...Fine. Wait! We'll be going with Boyd right?! Tell me we're going with Boyd!" they smile in unison and the creepy intensity of their combined smiles is enough to make Stiles shrink into his seat. "Nope" they chirp, and Fuck. He.should.have.known.

 


	2. Shadow of planets - All alone in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles begins his descent down denial, he just sort of forgets how to swim and kind of drowns. It's a good thing reality in on life-guard duty.  
> In which Denial isn't just a river in long-gone Egypt.

Stiles was screwed, royally screwed, so very very _very_ screwed. By the hand of Laura, Erica and probably Danny (Danny was like a secret agent, he was secretly involved in almost everything that happened on the ship, such was the job of the communications regulator), Stiles was going on an exploration mission with Derek. It doesn’t _sound_ like a death sentence, at least not anything worse than the usual exploration-turns-suicide-mission (there had been quite enough of those, damn alien planets). Derek was a professional, and probably wouldn’t eat you unless you seriously pissed him off, which, hmn… Yeah, there was a chance Stiles was going to be found half eaten under a rock somewhere. For him, it was like they’d trown him to the wolves with a ribbon on his neck and clothes made of meet, a la Lady Gaga. Contrary to popular belief, Stiles liked life, _like a lot_ , so he forgoes the  note that says ‘Young, Tender and Easy! Come get it boys!’ (his milkshake would not be bringing any sort of boy to his yard, thank you).

The hallway is slightly more crowded than usual, due to the afternoon ‘rush’ out of the cafeteria, no one, and I mean _no one_ wanted to get stuck on cleaning duty, he shudders just thinking about it. The pans, and the spoons, and the _leftover food_. *shiver* Gross.  Stiles sees a head of thick brown hair and catches sight of a crooked jaw. He sees Scott turn a corner into a smaller hallway and steps down on the urge to call him out on his inherent creepiness (I mean, who walks like that, it’s like the beginning of old horror movies). He follows, maneuvering around people and ducking his head when Lindsay smirks at him and elbows Jorge, the news must have spread already then, screw Erica and her inability to keep her mouth shut for more than a forth night.

“Scott, dude.” Stiles says, and grabs hold of Scotts shoulder. Scott turns, and sends him the dopiest of dopy looks. Oh no, oh please, god no.

“Please tell me you’re going on the expedition this week.” He says, and watches Scott’s face twist into the dopiest look ever given. Mercy.

“No dude, Allison’s coming on board.” Fuck Stiles kisses his escape plan goodbye. Stupid modern Romeo and Juliet, stupid, stupid stupid. If Scott’s staying on board, then Stiles had no excuse to stay. No “Scott’s going, somebody from the control team should stay on board, we don’t want a repeat on last time” (Everybody on the control team (Scott, Stiles, Danny, Laura and Lydia) had been on world, and the ship may have been taken over by some very angry and slightly confused aliens. It had been bad, until they got Danny on board, and then the situation had been cleared and the aliens left with little problem). Clearly, Laura and Erica had thought this through. (Although it was Danny that had arranged for Allison to come on board, with smooth excuses, such as ‘important navigation charters’ and ‘disturbance on the communication system that Alison helped install’. Danny was swift and deadly, he knew how to get things _done_.)

It was practically Facebook official at this point, Stiles was going on that exploration trip. There was no way out. A sight left him as he stared blearily at the vast expanse of space, his hand sliding across the large window. It wasn’t that he and Derek didn’t get along, far from it sometimes, when he wasn’t being a raging douche-face. Sometimes they had actual _conversations_ , interesting ones, with topics of interest and a bit of flirting on Stiles’ part. That made it worse. So much worse. Because Stiles knew Derek wasn’t a complete asshole, and that pleasure was reserved to very few, select people. The Teddy Derek Club, like those people that had assassinating-raving-red-eyes-foaming-from-the-mouth-legit-attack-dogs, and went around telling other people: ‘he’s a big softy really, just pat him down if he’s being a nuisance’.  It made hating him difficult; for one thing, because he knew Derek had this really soft romantic dopey side, one that he’d like to _know_ better. It almost made Stiles wish he’d see him more often, despite his usual pissed-cat attitude. Almost, but not really, ‘cuz, as mentioned above, he valued his life. No encounters in his immediate future please.

The future, on the other hand, had big plans for Stiles, and it paid no heed to his wishes. 


End file.
